


Let’s Talk

by deadlymilkovich



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich Happy Ending, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlymilkovich/pseuds/deadlymilkovich
Summary: A fix-it fic for @mysticonceaf on Instagram 🖤
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	Let’s Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in two days and it’s not the best but it’s still good and I’m very proud of it
> 
> Also this was specifically wrote for mysticonceaf because they wanted a fix-it where Mickey feels bad after what he did and after the events of 10x08
> 
> THIS IS ALSO UNCHECKED SO ANY MISTAKES ARE DUE TO ME RUSHING AND I WILL FIX THEM IN THE FUTURE

“What the fuck Mickey?”

He couldn’t stop seeing Ian on the stairs, and he couldn’t stop hearing Ian’s voice. It was like a broken record, over and over again. “I love you” it would say. “Tell me how you feel” it would scream. Mickey couldn’t breathe, it felt like he was trapped.

He had been decent enough to drop Ian off at a hospital, but he didn’t stick around past that. He was so angry, he couldn’t even look at Ian. If he would have just told Mickey about why he really wanted to marry him or maybe if he had just kept his fucking mouth shut none of this shit would have happened. Maybe, but it didn’t matter now.

Mickey pulled up to the Milkovich house, and for a moment, every thought of Ian stopped.

This house was haunted to him, years of abuse, crime and hate filled its walls. His mother died in this house at the hand of his father. He was raped in this house. His sister was abused in this fucking house.

But he had no where else to go. Not anymore.

He sucked in a breathe and felt his body shake from fear. That was all in the past, and he’s fine now, right? He exited his car, locking it and shoving the keys into his pants pocket.

It felt like an eternity before he actually reached the door. He could hear clanking and chatter behind it, and he sighed. He was either going to be thrown into something illegal again or he was going to get lectured by his father. He didn’t feel like having to do either.

He stepped away from the door, and made his way over to the side of the house. Stepping up on a few old crates, he hoisted himself up to his window, and shoved. The window flew up a bit, and he pushed it open more, finally crawling through and landing on solid ground.

His room was still the same, still a little messy, still a little shitty, but it didn’t feel like Mickey anymore.

He shut the window and looked around more. The sheets were washed, unlike how he had left them. His dresser didn’t have the pile of beer cans on it anymore. There wasn’t any guns on the floor or on the bedside table.

Mickey felt a little more peaceful. He felt like he could breathe.

He sat down on his bed, scooting to the middle and settling down. He needed sleep, or a nap, he needed something other than being awake.

Ian flooded his mind moments later. It took a while for Mickey to actually process that it was Ian again, but when he did, he wanted to scream.

“Mickey, I love you!”

“It is really fucking important, so can we just talk about it for one second, please!”

“I wanna know how you feel.”

Mickey punched his bed. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and it made him panicky. He wiped at them, rubbing vigorously at his eyes until they felt raw. It didn’t help.

He kept crying, kept hitting his bed, and his pillows. He couldn’t see what he was doing, but at this point he didn’t care.

Why did he fucking punch Ian? Why didn’t he talk about it like Ian asked? What was wrong with him? Was he fucking crazy?

Questions and Ian and anger kept floating around in his head. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, and it felt like he was falling in mid air. He started to whimper a bit, but even that hurt. It felt like he was in a small box, and it kept getting smaller and smaller.

He could hear his bedrooms door open, and he looked at the intruder before his brain even registered how he might look like right now.

Sandy stood in the doors opening, mouth open and eyebrows raised. She stepped in quickly and shut the door behind her, pressing her back into it.

“Mickey what the fuck?” She whisper shouts, and Mickey just shakes his head, hanging it low and ignoring her now. She watched as he cried, noticed his shaking shoulders and his fingers picking at the blanket beneath him. She sighed, locking the door and clambering onto the bed as well, opposite from the man.

“Mickey, what’s wrong?” She asks, looking at him worriedly. He stopped moving for a moment.

And then he broke down. He fell forward into her lap, he cried into her legs and she shushed him, petting his hair. She was never good at comforting people, but this was Mickey. It didn’t matter if she was shit, he was hurting. She wanted to be there for him.

Minutes past before Mickey sat back up. It broke Sandy’s heart to see him like this, puffy eyes and patchy red cheeks. In all honesty, she’d never seen Mickey cry before, not in a long time at least. It was devastating to see it.

He wiped his eyes again, taking deep breathes and Sandy let him calm down. When he finally looked at her, Sandy took his hand.

“What happened?” She asks again, and Mickey looks away. She doesn’t mind.

“Me and Ian... we got into a fight? He tried to calm it down and asked me to talk about how I felt, and I just,” Mickey sniffles a bit, and Sandy tries to look for tissues without leaving Mickey. “I hit him. I punched him, and he fell. He uh, he broke his leg when he fell, and I just froze. It’s like I didn’t even care.”

Sandy stopped looking for tissues once Mickey mentioned not caring. She held his hand harder and looked at him.

“Mickey, why did you hit him? And don’t say you didn’t care, you care a lot about Ian.”

Mickey felt like he was a child again. Back in grade school when he would hurt people who do much as looked at him weird. It made him scared, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know why he punched Ian. But he did at the same time.

“We fought over the marriage thing, yeah. He didn’t sign the papers and I guess that set me off. I stormed off and he just kept telling me to talk to him and talk about it, and I don’t know. He asked me to tell him how I felt and I punched him,” Mickey explains. Sandy nods, working the situation out in her head. “When he stopped rolling down the stairs I just stood over him. It felt like I was nineteen again. When I kicked him in the face...”

Sandy hides her surprise. Mickey was always a bit over the top violent, but now he was... he was better. He regretted his actions, regretted hurting Ian and he admitted that it scared him. She was a little dizzy from that information alone, but she shook it off.

“Hey, Mick,” She starts, and his eyes flick up to hers. “You’re going to be okay. You guys can talk about it and you can work out whatever this issue is-“

Mickey shakes his head. Sandy sees tears fall again.

“He wouldn’t want to see me after this. He hates me.”

Sandy shook her head this time. She stood up and pulled Mickey up too. He stumbled a bit, but she let him fix himself. She lead him out of the house and out of Terry’s view, taking him to the back yard. She held his hand as they walked away from the Milkovich house, and Mickey took in the fresh air.

“Ian can’t hate you,” Sandy says, cars driving past them as they walked into town. “He would never do that. He loves you, Mick, he really does. And he would die for you.”

Mickey half listens, but it hurts. He hadn’t hurt Ian like that in years, why did he do it now?

“Mickey,” Sandy stops their walk, and turns to him. “Punching him wasn’t the answer to this whole issue, you should apologize to him for that, but he should apologize too, if he hurt you. You should talk about this with him, like he wanted.”

“When did you become a relationship counselor?” Mickey says, and Sandy laughs.

“Never. But it’s the right thing to do.” She says. They start walking again, keeping quiet and looking at the different stores they pass by. Mickey’s head wanders to Ian, wondering if he’s okay, not knowing how Ian is feeling or if Ian is even awake right now. He taps Sandys hand and looks at her.

“I think I’ll see Ian in the morning. I need a little time.” He says.

Sandy smiles, and she hugs him. Mickey hugs back, but not for long. She pulls away and looks at him more.

“That’s okay, it’s understandable. You should probably get him something to eat or flowers, I don’t know what he likes, but whatever it is you should get some. Let him know you’ve been thinking about him, yeah?”

Mickey nods along, and he asks if they can double back over to the drug store. She follows him through the isles when they get there, and observes him.

He has a carrier and so far he’s got some medical shit piled in there, a few cooking ingredients, and water. She chuckles a little when he throws in snickers. Stupid man and his chocolate addiction.

When they check out they head home. Sandy doesn’t let Terry talk when he sees Mickey, and she helps him put away some of the things he bought for Ian before heading to bed. Mickey declines sleeping in his room, opting to just stay in his car. It was one thing being in the house, it was another sleeping in it.

-

Sandy woke up to the smell of sweet. What sweet, she couldn’t tell, but it was delicious.

She’d later find out that it was brownies, and she laughed when Mickey hit her hand, keeping her from snagging one.

“Ian likes them, so they’re not for you. Keep your hands away gremlin.” He said, and Sandy nodded, accepting the fact that he wouldn’t let her near the brownies even if it was his last day on earth.

Mickey has driven to the hospital with a nappy sack of medical supplies, his brownies and hope. He didn’t know if Ian would even let him in the room, if Ian had forgiven him. Didn’t know if Ian even cared about him now.

He waited a bit before approaching the desk, worry and anxiety building in his chest. It reminded him of being in the psych ward, when Ian didn’t even realize he was there. It made him feel small. He shoved those feelings deep down and away, walking up to the front desk.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Ian Gallagher, he was admitted last night?”

“Okay, may I see your ID?”

Mickey set down his gifts and fished out his wallet, handing the receptionist his card. Her breathe catches and he looks down.

“Oh sorry, uhm, relationship to the patient?” She scrambled, grabbing papers and a pen, busing herself.

“Husband.”

The woman’s eyes shot up. Mickey’s won widened.

‘Did I just call myself his husband?’ He though. There’s no going back now, he can’t just say he isn’t, she’ll kick him out.

“Oh,” She stammers, and hands back his ID. She smiles, composing herself. “He’s in room 2-10, he’s awake as well.”

“Thank you so much.” Mickey says, and he picks up his brownies and bag, smiling before heading toward the elevator. He stops for a moment, staring down the stall doors, before turning and hitting the button to go up. Fighting in places that aren’t outside stores is affecting him more than he thought it would. Elevators, stairs, houses. He needed to work on that.

The ride up was quiet, same with the walk to Ian’s room. But then Mickey stopped. Dread flooded his brain and he could feel his feet and hands go cold.

Then Sandy’s voice chimed in. 

“You should talk about this with him, like he wanted.” He whispers, ignore the shaking in his voice.

He knocked on the door, waiting for a reply. When one didn’t come, he went to knock again, but the door opened itself.

Ian stood in front of Mickey, and Mickey almost dropped what was in his hands. He felt the air leave his lungs and Ian looked surprised.

“What are you-“

“We have to talk.”

Ian pauses, and he stood there just looking for a moment. Mickey looked serious, but there was also the look of worry and hope. Ian smiled down at the man.

“Then let’s talk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it !
> 
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated


End file.
